


We don't need words

by kwunkwun



Category: EXILE (JPOP), Sandaime J Soul Brothers
Genre: All the sins, Buttsex, M/M, Mild Angst, Smut, Stockings, elly is that friend who gives bad ideas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 01:59:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9856868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwunkwun/pseuds/kwunkwun
Summary: He hadn’t been home –in Ryuji’s home –for so long he’d forgotten that it was the key with bunny teeth (Ryuji’s interpretation) that opened the front door. It was quiet in there, and it looked like Ryuji had done some haphazard tidying in anticipation of his visit. There goes the guilt. Yes, it was totally his fault. He was getting his priorities all wrong.





	

_We don’t need words to know what the other person is thinking._

They’ve probably said this a million times in between them. The whole world knows it, and fangirls probably scream over it. But now it feels like a joke, because Ryuji had no idea what to see in Hiroomi’s eyes or in his fleeting smiles when their gazes catch across a crowd. Everyone’s busy; he gets it. They all had a handful of projects at the same time except him. He couldn’t act and he couldn’t design clothes and he couldn’t model and he couldn’t dance. Self-deprecating thoughts would get him nowhere but still he muttered a terse _‘useless’_ into the comforter that he had hugged to his frame. His phone sounds moments later; he glanced at the notification from Hiroomi’s official instagram and the image of him smiling with some chick pressed to his side made him want to resume the foetal position and cry a little.

On the coffee table was a half full can of calpis (because he hadn’t reached that level of lame to actually bring out the booze) and an empty convenience store bento. The weather was a pleasant 22 with whispers of clouds in a gray-blue sky. Little wind, no rain. He had pulled the curtains all the way back and opened the window a crack to air out the room, and now he could smell cooking from the neighbourhood: mackerel, radish, something soupy. Any intention to enjoy the outside world had long since been quashed when Omi had sent him a pithy apology about how he had to postpone their off day together due to another last minute gig.

_If you’re really that sorry then don’t go._

_And don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself._

_Stupid._

Like he could say something so selfish -he already felt like shit for thinking it.

His hair was a bird’s nest and his flannel shirt was all bunched up around his waist from how long he had spent rolling around on the couch. The other members’ dedication to their multiple jobs had made Ryuji start to revise the notion that being lazy on days off was a good thing.

The phone buzzes again: this time it was from Elly.

_[msg] sup my man_

_[msg] nothing much. At home moping_

_[msg] on such a fine day? Lame_

_[msg] wait_

_[msg] did Omi leave the wife home alone again_

_[msg] I’m not his wife excuse_

_[msg] get dressed I’m coming to get you in fifteen_

_[msg] but I want to watch another ep of Shinjiro’s nyanko visits a dairy farm_

_[msg] fuck that you’d better be ready in fifteen_

Elly really was a gentleman. He climbed off the sofa and trudged to the bedroom to pull on some bland outfit that couldn’t go wrong, dealt with his hair, shut all the windows and kicked on a pair of sneakers. Waiting at the foot of the stairs, Ryuji watched the scattered leaves crawl along the road, scraping over the concrete, tumbling behind lamp posts and trash piles. Seasons go by in the blink of an eye. Before he knew it he’d already been with Omi for almost a year. _Had he taken Omi for granted for all this time?_ Omi was his first man. Dating when you’re working in the entertainment world was already hard enough without two guys in the equation.

“Ryuji! Elly is here to pick-you-up.”

As usual he spoke like he was rapping, but Elly had perceptibly toned down the flamboyancy of his gestures, as if for his sake. Ryuji felt a weird sense of guilt, and he stepped closer to the dancer, offering a wishy-washy smile.

“Thanks for coming. You didn’t have to though.”

“None of that talk. I’ll take you out to lunch, ok?”

  
A warm arm was thrown around his shoulders, and already he felt better, cradled against Elly’s body. They found a familiar cafe not too far from the neighbourhood and settled down at the table farthest from the entrance. The sunnies and masks came off but the caps stayed, just in case. Elly ordered for them spaghetti carbonara, a salad, and a crème brulee.

“I wish I was busier,” Ryuji confessed, rotating the ring on his fingers because the conversation already embarrassed him. “Then I wouldn’t have the time to feel lonely.”

It was a fucking joke how he was more honest with Elly than he was with his own lover.

“Hm. You also won’t have the time to eat and sleep, Ryuji,” he responded with an incredulous laugh. “Look, if you two haven’t been communicating properly, then I can’t help you there.”

“Whose side are you on?!”

“Hey, hey, I wasn’t pointing any fingers.”

Of course they were both joking, but once their laughter subsided, Elly pensively rubbed at the side of his face, sighing.

“Regardless, he shouldn’t be leaving you alone all the time. Did you talk to him about this?”

“He’s busy.”

“Dude, _I’m_ busy, but here I am.”

“Do you know how mortifying it is for a thirty year old man with facial hair to come across as desperate? Every time I try to bring it up the way he looks at me just…”

They’re both too polite to say it, but Hiroomi did have a resting bitch face.

“I’m sure he misses you,” Elly insisted. His voice had dropped to a murmur because a waiter had come up to their table to deliver their orders. Ryuji didn’t waste time to pick up a fork and dig in; even boyfriend issues couldn’t put a dent in his appetite. Minutes passed in silence as Ryuji shoved big chunks of pasta into his mouth. Elly was much more elegant with his salad, and he didn’t even complain when Ryuji reached across to steal a slice of cucumber.

“Doesn’t feel like he misses me all that much,” Ryuji muttered, licking at the corner of his mouth to catch any spilled sauce.

“Ryuji, you look so sad that my salad’s wilting.” Elly joked, reaching out to ruffle that hedgehog hairdo. “You know what you guys need? To spice things up a bit.”

“Like what, in the bedroom?”

Ryuji’s eyes carried a glimmer of curiosity, and seeing it, Elly raised both eyebrows with obvious amusement.

“Uh, no, but since you asked…”

 

* * *

 

 

Hiroomi sent off the last work-related email, and then his phone went back into his coat pocket. His clothes reeked of perfume and alcohol. Knowing full well how much Ryuji hated it, but having no other choice because he had to apologize in person for blowing him off, he knitted his brows and trudged up the flight of stairs to Ryuji’s apartment.

The air carried a tang of imminent rain, and Hiroomi looked over his shoulder to scan over the charcoal gray skies. The last time he had looked at it properly was yesterday afternoon. These days his schedule was so full that his brain often got fucked over when he went back outside to find that he had already worked or partied till dawn. Fatigue was a thing that he had learned to deal with by popping the odd pain killer and chugging an extra coffee, but now it ate at his shoulders and the back of his neck. His fingers felt clumsy as he fished out a set of keys and fitted them, one by one, into the lock until he got a match. He hadn’t been home –in Ryuji’s home –for so long he’d forgotten that it was the key with bunny teeth (Ryuji’s interpretation) that opened the front door.

It was quiet in there, and it looked like Ryuji had done some haphazard tidying in anticipation of his visit. There goes the guilt. Yes, it was totally his fault. He was getting his priorities all wrong.

Hiroomi shrugged off his coat, draping it over the end of the sofa. He looked about, footsteps echoing on the floorboards. They sounded empty, forlorn. He was so used to seeing Ryuji at the door, beaming and charging forward for a kiss before he even took one step inside. No one would believe it if they heard Ryuji was capable of something so affectionate, and Hiroomi had to remind himself, yes, seeing this side of him is a privilege, not a right.

“Ryuji?”

Finding the bedroom door ajar, he gave it a hesitant push. Dandelion light flooded through the gap, illuminating the bundle on the queen size mattress. The bundle shuffled, and then bleary black eyes gazed back at him over the cocoon of blankets.

“Oh, you’re back. Welcome back,” Ryuji said, his face slowly breaking out into one of those dopey and utterly adorable smiles of his.

“Sorry I cancelled last minute,” Hiroomi uttered, approaching him cautiously, like he was afraid of upsetting something between them –even though Ryuji’s expression was so tolerant, if not longing.

“You should be. You missed out on the best dinner on earth,” Ryuji complained –pouting, of course. Hiroomi couldn’t help but smile as he let himself be pulled closer, and then Ryuji’s mouth was falling lightly upon his chin, his cheekbone, the little mole under his right eye. And just like that the tension was already fading from his body.

“And what was that?” he challenged, returning the kisses. His fingers wrapped covetously around the back of Ryuji’s nape, playing with the unruly, spiky hair there.

“Elly’s seafood curry.”

_Elly?_

Jealousy was biting him on the ass, and yes he fully deserved it.

“Are you sure it had seafood in it?” Hiroomi disguised whatever juvenile envy he had with a quiet laugh –as if Elly could make Ryuji wear this look in his eyes from just a simple touch to the soft underside of his jaw.

“Mm, yeah, he said so,” Ryuji responded. He was getting distracted from the conversation topic; Hiroomi could tell from the way Ryuji had tilted his head to the side to give him full access to his neck.

“Let’s not talk about Elly.” Hiroomi gave his partner a push, and the mattress gave a sigh as Ryuji obediently fell back. There was something about how he lied there with arms spread and hips cocked slightly to one side that gave Hiroomi the impression: _something is a little different._

Ryuji slowly brought up one arm, trailing the back of his hand over his own torso, neck, chin, before he parted his mouth to bite at a knuckle. And all the while Ryuji’s eyes only darkened as he watched Hiroomi watch him. Something was definitely different.

Hiroomi’s gaze drifted from the black fire of Ryuji’s eyes to a gorgeous pair of clavicles, and then to his waistline where his t-shirt was bunched up in all the right places. His belly, the curve of his hips, the sneaky trail of dark hair above the band of his st-

_Wait what?_

Ryuji noticed his slow comprehension, and with a timid rock of his hips, offered himself.

His tongue felt thick and clumsy, so he foregoes speaking for a dumb nod of the head. His hands fell upon Ryuji’s half-bared midriff, and carefully he dragged his palms down that sweet, hot skin, until he could tuck his thumbs under the waistband of his sweatpants and pull them down.

Hips, crotch, thighs. Knees, calves, ankles. Adorned in sheer black silk that shimmered like diamonds in the scant light. His brain was having trouble keeping up but his hands were on autopilot, running all over him, feeling the tremors and ripples of hot skin and muscle through the flimsy fabric.

“You –this… _stockings?”_

Ryuji laughed shyly, turning on his side and pulling up one leg to hide from his question, and to hide the fact that he was already hard. The movement only made him look all the more delectable, and the animalistic need that surfaced from his subconscious honestly made Hiroomi a little scared of himself.

“Please tell me you’re not grossed out.”

Ryuji’s voice was timid and small, making Hiroomi issue an involuntary groan, because _fuck_ this man was perfect and he’d never felt so turned on in his life.

“No. I want to fuck you until you pass out,” he responded, teeth gnawing on his bottom lip. Ryuji wore nothing underneath those stockings, he realised.

“Oh, romantic.”

His quiet giggle died as Hiroomi pressed one hand to the inside of his knee and pushed them apart. He didn’t know whether the heat he felt was from his own palm or from Ryuji’s aroused body. When he ran the back of his knuckles over Ryuji’s erection, he had never seen his lover’s face turn such a brilliant shade of red.

Hiroomi was about 80% sure that this wasn’t Ryuji’s idea, but what did it matter –Ryuji was lying underneath him, letting himself get undone by his fingers, his mouth, or even by just his unwavering gaze. He listened to him pant and whimper as he palmed his arousal, and hungrily he drank up the sight of his precome slowly soaking through the silk.

“Omi. Take them off. Please.” His tone falters when Hiroomi’s mouth closed over one of his taut nipples to suck and nibble.

“Since you said please,” he murmured back, triumphant. He tucked his index beneath the waistband, but straight away succumbed to the urge to let go. The elastic slapped against Ryuji’s skin, earning him a squeak and a jerk of his hips. Even his dick twitched a little – _fuck, fuck, fuck._

There was no resistance as he slid the silk off his body, and belatedly he realised that Ryuji had done the whole shebang and shaved. Surprises upon surprises; it’d be a miracle if he managed not to come before he got his cock where it wanted to go. Ryuji had the most gorgeous pair of legs he’d ever seen on a man (and even on some women, to be honest), and now they were utterly smooth under his palms, and probably even more sensitive than usual. The way Ryuji shivered and moaned from a simple touch to the underside of his thigh told him so.

“You are so, so sexy,” Hiroomi praised in a heated whisper against Ryuji’s mouth. “Just look at you, Ryuji. Fuck.”

“No thanks.” Ryuji’s eyelashes glittered with tears and sweat as he dizzily looked up at him. He meant that he didn’t want to look at himself. Oh, he was so fucking cute.

Ryuji was trembling under him, and Hiroomi’s head suddenly cleared. Fighting through the fog of want he stopped the teasing caresses, and asked him, “are you all right? Ryuji?”

“I don’t want to bore you. I don’t want you to tire of me.” Ryuji’s voice shook a little, firing right through his chest, digging into his heart.

“I would never. I’m sorry. I’ve been a shit boyfriend, I know –

And then he finally put two and two together: Ryuji’s silent toleration despite their lack of communication, Ryuji keeping the bedroom door open for him, Ryuji dressing up for him. All for him.

Only Ryuji could make him go from horny to feeling like dirt in the space of ten seconds.

“Nevermind. I just want you. Let’s talk later?” Ryuji urged –and as if he needed more encouragement he slowly folded up his legs, wrapping them around his waist. He was almost gone, and then when Ryuji dug his heels into the small of his back, he was completely gone.

_Talk later, after they’ve fucked each other into oblivion?_

_Would he?_

He knew that if Ryuji didn’t ask twice, then he wouldn’t make the first move to bring it up again.

Promises are made far too easily in the heat of passion, so Hiroomi held his tongue.

He waited for Ryuji to press him, but all he said was, “Omi, fuck me.”

Once again, the fog of want took over his vision.

He didn’t fight it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so tired but it's done, thank you to Sayuki and Woody for inspiring me angst and stockings wise, what a mix, fuck, it's late


End file.
